


You opened up a charge in me

by taniaterror



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pre-Relationship, References to Depression, s1 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18840841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taniaterror/pseuds/taniaterror
Summary: "You gave her the no-secret-cutting shit from the keg, right?"* * *Eliot gives Quentin a potion to keep him from physically harming himself.





	You opened up a charge in me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Hurricane by Active Sun feat. Hale Appleman](https://god-never-cries.tumblr.com/post/184667710108/active-sun-feat-hale-appleman-hurricane) , because I am obsessed with this song right now.
> 
> I've been rewatching the show, and in the s2 finale Quentin gives Alice a potion that will keep her from hurting herself. What I never noticed, though, is that after that scene Eliot specifically refers to the potion as a "no-secret-cutting" potion. So, I took that to mean Eliot's known about the potion for some time and had to give it to Quentin, back in season one. However, I like to think of this as an AU s1. Maybe this is one of the previous time loops, idk. Also, this kind of took on a life of it's own and became way more than just about the potion.
> 
> TW for references to Q's depression and self-harm (though no actual depictions or scenes of Q hurting himself)

There was this sort of _light_ in Quentin Coldwater, Eliot noted. It was unlike anything he had ever seen in anyone before, especially since enrolling at Brakebills. So when Eliot learned that light could go dim, or potentially burn out altogether, he tried to be there for Quentin.

Quentin had moved into the Physical Kids' Cottage yesterday. His discipline was undetermined, so it was unclear if this was even the right placement for him, but there were plenty of rooms to spare. He ended up choosing a room a few doors down from Eliot, for which Eliot was silently grateful, already too attached to this lost-puppy of a first year.

Quentin was there now, hunched over his desk and scribbling away. Eliot, only just returned to the cottage from his last class, stopped in Quentin's doorway. The conversation from the patio the other day ran through his mind. _I have - or I had - I don't know, this thing that I couldn't shake where I felt because nothing was ever not gonna be pointless and empty, then, uh, why go on?_

_Now, can you just help me live with myself?"_

_Okay, I'm gonna tell you something deep and dark and personal now. Ready? Good. I killed someone._

_Magic doesn't come from talent, it comes from pain._

"Hey," Eliot said.

Quentin turned around in his seat and smiled. "Hi."

Magic comes from pain, he'd told Quentin. What a crock of shit. How could Eliot still believe that when the beauty that came from Quentin's smile told him otherwise?

"Come outside with me," Eliot said.

"Okay," Quentin said, nodding and getting up immediately.

It thrilled Eliot how Quentin didn't even question him.

Eliot led them back to the patio, lighting up a cigarette as he took one of the seats at the small table. Quentin sat opposite to him. He brought up a leg onto the seat and rested his chin on his knee. It endeared Eliot, all the positions Quentin could find to sit on a chair or couch. He only barely suppressed his smile.

"Want one?" Eliot asked, offering up his packet of cigarettes.

Quentin frowned, not looking at the packet but at the burning cigarette in Eliot's hand. "Uh - I try not to."

He said it like he wasn't talking about smoking. Eliot felt something in his gut twist.

"I can put it out, if you want," Eliot offered.

"Oh, no," Quentin said, shaking his head causing his curtain of hair to fall free from behind his ear. "It's not th- no - I don't mind."

"Are you sure?" Eliot asked.

"Yeah, I mean-," Quentin cleared his throat, "you make it look good."

Eliot did allow himself to smirk at that.

They spoke of nothing in particular this time. It was just chatting, just catching each other up on their days. Still, Eliot couldn't think of a better way to spend his time.

 

* * *

 

There had been a party, which meant Eliot was only now getting up around two in the afternoon. There was no one in his bed beside him, but he hadn't really been looking to sleep with anyone. Not since Quentin first made it past the Brakebills wards and immediately began burrowing a place for himself inside Eliot's heart.

Eliot rose from his bed and draped a silk robe around himself. He went to close his curtains (how had the sunlight not woken him before?), but when he reached his window he saw Quentin in the lawn around the corner from the patio and standing in the way of the sprinklers - shirtless. Eliot wondered what the hell that was about, but then decided he'd just go ask.

There was no telling how long Quentin must have been out here but as Eliot approached, he could see Quentin had his eyes closed and was shivering. He cleared his throat, not wanting to spook him. "Q…" Eliot said.

Eliot glanced down and saw the workings of an incomplete spell a few feet away from Quentin. Loose pages of paper, a number of jars with various ingredients inside them, a mortar and pestle that looked to contain some sort of brownish-green paste. Like guacamole that's been left to sit in the air too long. It wasn't until Eliot began reading the spell work on the pages that he became alarmed.

"Q, you didn't put any of this on your skin, did you?" There wasn't a response, and all Eliot could think to do was make his voice firmer. " _Quentin_."

The use of his full name falling from Eliot's lips seemed to snap Quentin out of whatever trance he'd been in. He looked over at Eliot like he'd only just realized Eliot was there.

"Will you get out of there, please?" Eliot asked.

Quentin frowned, not used to Eliot requesting anything from him. He nodded, though. He stopped mid-step and picked up his discarded shirt from the wet grass.

Eliot led them back to the patio table. They sat together silently for a few moments before Eliot said, "Q…"

"I didn't," Quentin said steadily.

"You nearly did, though."

"But, _I didn't_. I wasn't…" Quentin trailed off, losing the conviction in his voice.

That light, Eliot thought, the light Quentin carried inside him, this was the dimmest he had ever seen it.

"After we learned what happened to Emily Greenstreet? You know how dangerous this kind of magic is."

"I just wanted them gone," Quentin said, his voice cracking.

Eliot only just now registered he had never seen Quentin in short-sleeves, much less completely shirtless. There were light, pale lines up and down on his arms. There were some scattered round marks, too. They looked like burns, which confirmed Eliot's suspicions about the cigarettes.

"What happened?" Eliot finally asked.

"At the party last night," Quentin began, heaving a deep sigh, "I was hooking up with this guy. In my room. And everything was going really great. But, then he saw… god, I don't know. He just saw my wrists and got all weird. He made up some bullshit excuse about a test in the morning and then bailed."

Eliot's anger hindered him from responding immediately but at last said, "That guy was a fucking prick."

"I thought at first there was some sort of healing spell," Quentin continued, "but apparently there's only shit that works on open wounds or unhealed injuries." He laughed humorlessly. "So then I thought an illusion spell, but apparently I'd have to redo the spell, like, every hour. I just wanted them fucking gone."

"Q, if you hadn't been outside, I probably wouldn't have found you," Eliot said, his own voice going hoarse.

Quentin laughed mirthlessly again. "Yeah, something about being in direct sunlight, or before the sun came up. I don't know."

"You weren't sure of the circumstances?" Eliot asked.

"I was desperate, El."

"Jesus, Q." Eliot swallowed the lump in his throat. He noticed Quentin's shivering and said, "How long were you out here?"

"A few hours."

"Okay, we're taking a trip."

"Where?" Quentin asked.

"First, the infirmary. It's a miracle you haven't gone hypothermic. Then the student supply store."

"We have a student supply store?" Quentin's brows drew in together in that curious way they always did.

"Doesn't every university?" Eliot said, trying for a smirk, trying to give Quentin a little relief.

"I don't know, I guess." Quentin's frown deepened, as if really pondering Eliot's question.

Eliot smiled at himself. Quentin looked like a drowned rat at the moment, but his inquiring tone was beguiling all on it's own. "Can I trust you to dry off on your own? I'll go take care of… _that_ ," Eliot said, nodding at the abandoned spell.

To Eliot's surprise, Quentin stood up readily. "Um, yeah. I could use your robe, though."

"You test me, Quentin Coldwater," Eliot said, a sly smile on his lips. He stood up, gesturing at himself. "I'm completely nude under here."

The color that returned to Quentin's cheeks was instantaneous.

"I'll just-" Quentin stopped himself. With a dismayed look on his face, he slipped back into his soggy t-shirt.

Before he could think too much of it, Eliot took one of Quentin's hands in his own. "I'll only be a couple minutes." He wasn't trying to be smooth, he only wanted to promise Quentin that he wasn't going anywhere.

Quentin squeezed Eliot's hand gently. "Okay. Thanks."

Eliot ran his thumb reassuringly on the back of Quentin's hand before letting go, and watched Quentin walk back inside the cottage.

 

* * *

 

The only real danger in Quentin's spell were his notes and written work, and of course, the paste he mashed up. Eliot made quick work of burning those items, and then collected the jars of ingredients and dumped them into different drawers on his way to his room. Once there, he didn't bother with a shower, just dressed hastily, and went to retrieve Quentin.

Eliot probably should have knocked before entering Quentin's room. He didn't. That resulted in a _thwack_ , an "Ow!", and a thud as the door collided with Quentin's head and threw him down on his ass.

"Q!" Eliot yelled, immediately kneeling down to examine Quentin.

"What the shit, Eliot?" Quentin grumbled, hand rubbing at his injured head.

"Why the hell were you standing right in front of the door?"

"I didn't know if I should come get you, in case you- you weren't…"

Eliot wanted to protest but he really hadn't given Quentin, or anyone, much of a reason to believe he was a man of his word. "Oh, Q…" he said, fondly. "Can you get up?" he asked, already helping Quentin to his feet. He touched Quentin's forehead gently. "Honestly, I don't think it'll even bruise. Can't have been that bad."

Quentin was silent and pouting.

Eliot pressed his lips into a thin line, only barely able to suppress his smile. And then, because he couldn't help himself, he pressed his lips right below Quentin's hairline. He could feel Quentin still at the contact but then lean into it. When Eliot pulled away, he asked, "Is that better?"

"Yes," Quentin answered instantly, that light returning and shining through his eyes.

Eliot tried not to let himself think that light could have possibly returned because of him. He gulped down the feelings caught in his throat. "Let's go."

 

* * *

 

They didn't have to stay long at the infirmary. Quentin was physically fine, miraculously, but was still given a healing draft to prevent any typical cold or flu.

The trip to the student supply store was a little different. Once there, it looked like Quentin was finally going to ask what they were there for, except he stopped himself and just followed Eliot along as Eliot picked up the supplies they needed. Normally, Eliot didn't mind Quentin following him around, even encouraged it sometimes, but Quentin was being unusually silent. And Eliot had come to realize that Quentin didn't restrain himself among their little Physical Kids group. He was still shy and embarrassed, but more open to possibility and experience.

Eliot eyed Quentin, now, as they waited in line to make their purchase. Quentin's eyes kept flicking back and forth from the floor to… somewhere. Eliot followed Quentin's line of sight and thought, _oh no_.

"No, absolutely not," Eliot said.

"Just-" Quentin didn't finish his sentence, and instead walked off to look at the memorabilia emblazoned with the Brakebills logo.

Quentin immediately went for the pullover sweaters and held one up that looked two sizes too big for him.

"That's not even your size," Eliot said.

"It's not for me," Quentin said, smiling, and then turned that smile towards Eliot. "It's for my dad."

"Oh," Eliot said dumbly.

Eliot's heart and mind did conflicting things then. He knew Quentin's dad was sick, he knew Quentin had told him about magic and Brakebills - he didn't know what it was like to love his own father. Eliot's father certainly didn't love him. But this was so like Quentin. So sentimental and with his heart on his sleeve that Eliot felt like he'd lost his breath.

"Give it here," Eliot said, holding out his hand lazily as if he didn't care. He cared so much.

"What? No, I can't let you pay for everything," Quentin said. "I should at least buy my own dad's sweater."

"It's what friends are for," Eliot said. Quentin frowned and Eliot heard him mumble something out about how _normal_ friends don't buy things for each other's parents. But Eliot was starting to get the distinct feeling he and Quentin _weren't_ normal friends. He didn't want them to be, anyway. He thought - he hoped - Quentin felt the same as Quentin handed him the sweater.

 

* * *

 

They returned to the cottage and were in Eliot's bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"So, what is this for?" Quentin finally asked as Eliot prepared the potion between them.

"This won't get rid of… anything, " Eliot said uncomfortably. He hated his cowardice. He wondered if Quentin would understand what he was trying to do, if his actions spoke louder than his words. "But, this will stop you from hurting yourself again."

Quentin opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly unsure of what to say, and scowled.

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to. But maybe keep it? In case you do."

"How long does it last?" Quentin asked, just above a whisper. "Like, would I have to take it every week, or…?"

"Every month," Eliot said, uncorking another bottle and mixing a few drops of the liquid into the bowl. "I'm only making one dose right now."

"This doesn't seem like the kind of thing they'd teach here," Quentin said suspiciously. "At Brakebills, I mean."

Eliot purposefully avoided looking at Quentin. "It's not. It's, uh, it's a hedge witch thing."

"You _hate_ hedges," Quentin said.

Still staring down at the bowl, mixing this and that, Eliot said, "That's because I nearly was one."

Quentin gaped at him. "How?"

Eliot sighed. He stopped mixing and finally looked up at Quentin. "So, y'know how I found out I had magic after the whole…" _After the I killed someone thing_ , Eliot thought but didn't say. Quentin nodded in understanding, though, so he continued. "Well, I was too scared and ashamed about what I'd done that I didn't actively try to use my telekinesis until I got to undergrad. I still kept it on the down-low so I didn't get mixed up with hedges until after graduation. I met a hedge guy at some post-grad party. He took me to his safe house and I was with them for about a week. And then, I got invited to take the Brakebills entrance exam."

"Holy shit," Quentin said, his face going through an emotional journey as he sat there trying to process Eliot's story.

"Q, you can't tell anyone. Only Margo knows, and that's because she was my partner in the Secrets Trials."

"That was your secret?" Quentin asked, like he couldn't believe Eliot had shared that with him.

"Actually no," Eliot said slowly.

"Was it, y'know, how you found out you're telekinetic?"

Eliot simply shook his head.

Quentin nodded, seemingly having come to a conclusion about something. "Okay."

"That's it? You're not going to ask?"

"I didn't think you'd want me to," Quentin said cheekily.

Eliot gave him a flat look. Quentin had spurts of brazen behavior sometimes. Eliot liked that about him. "Thank you," he said as his face melded into something kinder. Eliot knew then that Quentin would continue to pull out the skeletons from Eliot's closet, one broken bone at a time, without even trying. It was terrifying - and _exhilarating_.

Quentin grinned at him shyly. "So, uh, is that done?" He gestured at the potion.

"Just one last thing," Eliot said. He poured the mixture into a small bottle and corked it. There was an incantation in Nahuatl he had to recite and a short tut to perform over the bottle. Once he'd done that, he and Quentin watched as the potion turned from a crystalline blue color to black. "It won't taste good," he said.

"I mean, why would it?" Quentin grumbled.

That made Eliot laugh.

"Thank you," Quentin said, taking the bottle. He didn't drink it, though. "Really. Thanks, El."

"Of course."

 

* * *

 

About a month later, Eliot found Quentin sitting at the table in the patio again. The place where Eliot was trying not to think of as _their spot_.

"Waiting for me to get out of class?"

"Yes, actually," Quentin said.

Obviously, Eliot meant to tease Quentin. But so many of these attempts would backfire when Quentin answered with open honesty. And Eliot still dared not acknowledge the fact that most of his teasing of Quentin came in the form of questions because he wanted Quentin to always answer yes. _Yes, I want you to make all my drinks, El. Yes, I'll distract you from the paper you have to write. Yes - I'm waiting for you._

 _Oh_ , Eliot thought. Could Quentin have been waiting on Eliot for more than one thing?

"What do you need?" Eliot asked, taking a seat. He'd give Quentin whatever he asked.

"I took the potion," Quentin said.

"I can make more," Eliot said.

"Oh, um, yeah. I wasn't - that's not what I was going to ask. I still got about a week before I need to re-up " Quentin stuttered out. "Um, will you come into the city with me?"

"Okay," Eliot said, though, he wasn't quite following what Quentin was getting at yet. "The occasion?"

"When I got into Brakebills, Fogg told me I didn't need my meds so I stopped taking them."

Eliot was going to wring Henry Fogg's neck. On the outside, he kept his cool and let Quentin continue.

"And that potion - it worked. I haven't hurt myself. I couldn't, right? But, see, sometimes I still… want to," Quentin admitted, the last part coming out as a whisper. He was avoiding looking at Eliot now. "I don't know. I guess, I thought - I was convinced, or maybe I convinced myself, that being here was going to fix me… somehow."

"Q," Eliot said, tentatively placing a hand on top of Quentin's own. "I think you know that's not how this works."

"Yeah, I get that now," Quentin said. He looked at Eliot and turned his hand palm up to hold Eliot's hand. "So, I got this script for a refill on my meds. And, y'know, was wondering if you'd just come with me while I go pick them up?"

"Of course I will," Eliot said.

"Great! So, city trip? Tomorrow?" He stood up, pulling Eliot along with him.

"Sure thing." Eliot dry swallowed. He hadn't expected Quentin to be so close when he stood up. Quentin was starring up at him, unflinching. He did that sometimes. He would go back and forth between shying away and ducking his head to being bold and, just, fucking staring. It was disarming. "What?" Eliot asked. "Why are you staring?"

Quentin shook his head. "You get this look in your eyes sometimes. They light up."

 _And all this time, I thought it was you_ , Eliot thought.

"You try not to, though. You shouldn't."

"You don't realize how brave you are, do you, Q?"

Quentin rolled his eyes. "I just can't shut up."

"You shouldn't," Eliot parroted back at him.

That made Quentin smile, which Eliot returned. Their hands were kept clasped until they entered the cottage. The hair all over Eliot's body stood on end as if charged by electricity.

**Author's Note:**

> How do y'all feel about Eliot buying his future father-in-law a sweater? lol
> 
>  
> 
> [Reblog fic here](https://demiromanticmickey.tumblr.com/post/184903408550/you-opened-up-a-charge-in-me-taniaterror-the)  
> [My tumblr](https://demiromanticmickey.tumblr.com/)


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